


Found: One Bicycle

by gracie137



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Bake Sales, Dick Jokes, Dumb Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Human Disaster Bucky Barnes, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Meet-Ugly, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Fight Me Rogers, Wholesome Football Teams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracie137/pseuds/gracie137
Summary: Bucky Barnesposted inOverheard at Middlebury College:Hello fellow students! Basically in my drunken stupor last night I came across a bicycle. Being rather intoxicated and far from home I decided the logical thing to do was ride it back. I can assure you all that both me and the bike survived this adventure and are in perfect condition!! I now however have no use for for said vehicle and have realised that someone is probably pretty upset about having lost it. Anyway, if you can correctly identify the bike’s make and colour, slide into my DMs and I promise to return it to you!! Thanks for the ride xoxo





	Found: One Bicycle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [synonym4life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/synonym4life/gifts).



> 1\. i am gifting this fic to you my darling Syn because it seems the polite thing to do after dragging you with me into Stucky hell (let's call this fic a horrifically late birthday present), so here you are and I hope reading it brings you at least half as much joy as I got writing it
> 
> 2\. Another forever thankyou to Tdcat for being a brilliant beta and putting up with my never ending dick jokes
> 
> 3\. i hope every one reading this also enjoys it because as always with these idiots, I had a ball writing it <3

“Barnes!”

Bucky rolls over, groaning and pressing his facing into his pillow.

“Barnesy boy!”

“On top of the microwave,” Bucky says, words distorted by the pillow. It’s a testament to how well Gabe knows him that he actually understands a word that Bucky says.

“I ain’t asking for toilet paper money, you dickhead, I’m asking where the bike in the middle of the kitchen came from?”

“Ask Dum Dum.” Bucky can’t for the life of him figure out why Gabe is still speaking to him. Bucky can’t figure out much if he’s perfectly honest with himself; he feels vaguely like his body’s been run over by a car, and his mouth feels like something died into it. He moves his jaw, wincing as the clicking sound it makes pierces the room.

“Dum Dum’s all accounted for,” Gabe says. “He came home with me.”

Bucky groans into the pillow again, unsure what Gabe wants from him. “And?”

“You’re the only Commando who came home alone.”

Bucky grunts in response, he can’t really remember getting home. He doesn’t particularly care to try remember getting home either. He doesn’t want to do anything that involves thinking. Thinking hurts.

“Meaning that the bike in the kitchen had to come from you.”

Bucky’s starting to get the feeling that he’s not getting out of this conversation. He rolls over and hits his hand against his bedside table, looking for the painkillers that he’s sure he left there last night.

Gabe clears his throat, and Bucky squints over at him and nearly thanks God for Gabe’s existence when he catches sight of the packet in Gabe’s hands. “Gimme!” he whimpers, reaching his arms out in a childish grabby motion.

“When you tell me why there’s a bike in our kitchen?”

“Maybe someone shagged a postman?”

“I will leave the room,” Gabe threatens.

Bucky sighs. “I can’t remember, okay?”

“Barnes, you’ve stolen someone’s bike.”

“Ooops,” Bucky says. He tries for an innocent smile, but judging by Gabe’s expression he lands on a grimace. “I’ll get it back to them.”

“So you know who it belongs to?”

“Dude, I don’t remember taking the bike, let alone who I took it from.”

“Goddamnit, y’all are making me old before my time.”

“What have I done?” Morita’s voice echos into the room. Bucky pulls a face. He doesn’t understand why the whole house is speaking so loudly. He thinks they should all play a nice round of the silent game, or sleeping lions.

“I found you in the bath, so you don’t get to say anything,” Gabe says, sounding closer and closer to an exasperated father of five every day.

Morita laughs, peering around the door into Bucky’s room. “Didn’t steal someone’s bike though, did I?” Gabe turns around to glare at Morita, and Bucky takes the opportunity to give Morita his middle finger.

He’s got an innocent smile back on his face by the time Gabe’s facing him again. He’s got his hands on his hips in a way that reminds Bucky far too much of his ma, not that he’s going to tell Gabe that. Bucky’s still hoping Gabe’ll give him those painkillers.

“So, how exactly are you going to fix this?” Bucky has definitely heard that exact phrase from his ma’s mouth.

Bucky waves his hand dismissively. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, you will. You can’t go around stealing people’s bikes!”

“It could have been given to me for all we know.” The look Gabe shoots him tells Bucky that he knows exactly how unlikely that is. Bucky’ll admit it’s probably unlikely that someone gave him their bike to ride home when he was drunk. “Where would I have even got the bike from?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking you!”

Bucky shrugs and collapses back onto his bed. “I’ll figure it out,” he says again.

“And what am I going to do about the bike until then?”

Bucky laughs. “I dunno, man. Does it need a wash? That’d be a nice thing to do.” He’s still laughing when the pill packet hits him in the face and Gabe leaves his room grumbling about living with idiots. He pops a couple of pills and goes back to sleep because it’s a Saturday so he doesn’t have class, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let someone’s bike interrupt his morning lie in. He’s sure whoever is missing their bike can live without it for another hour or two.

It’s noon by the time he eventually stumbles downstairs and helps himself to Falsworth’s cereal — he’s out of breakfast and he needs nourishment. He’s fragile.

He sits at the table and stares at the bike that’s propped up against the kitchen wall. He really thinks he ought to be getting more praise for the fact he managed to ride the thing home — Bucky can’t remember the last time he actually rode a bike — there’s no bruises or aches to suggest he fell off the bike either. Also the bike is in one piece. Bucky hopes that the bike’s owner will appreciate that when the time comes for them to be reunited with it.

Bucky has a feeling he’s probably being optimistic.

He waits until all his housemates have joined him in the kitchen to raise the question of what the fuck he is actually supposed to do with the mystery bike.

“Sell it,” Dum Dum says.

Gabe glares at Dum Dum and says, “Give it to lost property.”

“Ride it around campus with a sign on saying you’re looking for its true owner,” Morita suggests.

“Put it on Overheard,” Falsworth says. There’s a moment of silence as they all stare at him in shock that he’s offered a useful answer before Bucky’s pulling out his phone with a sigh.

“Is there a post up already looking for a bike?” Falsworth asks. Bucky scrolls through this morning and last nights posts and shakes his head.

The _Overheard at Middlebury_ Facebook page was generally just an excuse for people to post relatable memes, and dumb conversations they’d heard around campus. However, it could also be used when people had lost things — such as bikes. There’s no report of a missing bike, and Bucky tries to argue that maybe it doesn’t belong to anyone at Middlebury, but Gabe glares at him until he clicks to open a new post.

“What should I say? Like, bike found DM me for deats?”

“Why would you not include the hilarious fact that you stole it drunk?” Dum Dum asks, stupid mustache twitching as he tries not to laugh. Bucky has no idea why Dum Dum thinks the thing makes him look distinguished.

“‘Cause I don’t want the dude to hate me?”

“But it's hilarious!”

“And you’ll get a load of likes,” Dernier says, “be a big name on campus and everything.”

“Oh, well that’s totally worth compromising my dignity for!”

“Exactly!” Morita says at the exact same time, as Gabe asks, “What dignity?”

Bucky supposes they’re both pretty valid responses, and a couple of minutes later he has typed up the post, complete with a selfie of him and the bike wheel.

_Bucky Barnes:_

_Hello fellow students! Basically in my drunken stupor last night I came across a bicycle. Being rather intoxicated and far from home I decided the logical thing to do was ride it back. I can assure you all that both me and the bike survived this adventure and are in perfect condition!! I now however have no use for for said vehicle and have realised that someone is probably pretty upset about having lost it. Anyway, if you can correctly identify the bike’s make and colour, slide into my DMs and I promise to return it to you!! Thanks for the ride xoxo_

“Nice!” Dum Dum leans over and high fives him, and Bucky smirks ‘cause he’s pretty proud of himself too.

“Why would you comment ‘fake news’?” Bucky glares over at Morita who sniggers.

“Funny?”

Bucky’s on a high as he slouches on the couch watching the latest series of _The Good Place_ and listening to Dum Dum grumble about Bucky’s ability to pick up girls. Bucky’s personally rather proud of the amount of girls he’s had tagging their friends to make jokes about riding him rather than the bike, and he’s got more likes than he’s ever had, but he still hasn’t found the mystery bicycle owner. Bucky doesn’t know what he’ll do if the guy doesn’t go to Middlebury — give the bike to the police? He certainly doesn’t want the thing.

“You’re hungover,” Dum Dum says, “you shouldn’t look good!”

“What can I say? I’m clearly blessed.”

“Dum Dum stop making Barnes’s head bigger than it already is.”

“My head isn’t big!”

“Whatever you say five-head,” Falsworth says sweetly. Bucky chucks a pillow at him and scowls. His forehead isn’t _that_ big.

Bucky glances down at his phone to see a message request on Facebook has popped on the screen. He’s distracted enough that Falsworth is able to clock him in the head with a pillow.

“Now would I have been able to do that that easily if your head wasn’t huge?”

Bucky’s too busy staring at his phone in dismay to respond.

“I found out whose bike it is.”

“Who?” His friends all chime.

Bucky groans and buries his face in the pillow as his friends continue to hoot at him like a bunch of deranged owls.

“Steve Rogers,” he mumbles into the pillow. There’s a moment’s silence, and then Dum Dum says:

“It was nice knowing you, Barnsey boy.”

And they all burst out laughing.

Steve Rogers is the epitome of a big name on campus. He’s known notoriously by everyone and their mother, and he’s not known in the most flattering manner. He’s known for being a hundred pounds soaking wet and picking fights if you breathe wrong in his direction. Bucky has a horrible feeling that Rogers is not going to find his Facebook post charming and hilarious. The blunt tone of Rogers’s response confirms that Bucky’s fears are not unfounded.

Rogers has listed the make and colour, along with the last place the bike was seen, which was apparently outside his work. Bucky honestly thinks he’s done Rogers a favour, demonstrated how lax his bike security is.

_SR: I need the bike to get to college and work, but as long as you got home ok._

Bucky can feel the passive-aggression of Rogers’s second message seeping through the screen.

“Has he challenged you to a fight for honour?” Dernier asks.

“Has he threatened to report you to the school board?” Dum Dum inquires.

“Come on,” Morita says, “Rogers’s school board reports are legit.”

“He got half the hockey team put on probation!” Dum Dum protests.

“Yeah,” Gabe says, “for sexual assault, dude. They deserved it.”

“And Barnsey stole his bike!”

“Not the same.”

Bucky tunes out their squabbling as he opens up Rogers’s message.

_BB: Hey man! Glad you’re concerned for my safety, means a lot! Your answers are correct, meaning you are the winner of one bike! How’d you want me to get it to you?_

Bucky doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard to make Rogers laugh, but he doesn’t want the dude to totally hate him. Bucky likes to think of himself as a likeable guy and has never coped well when people disliked him. He’s not used to it. Also it drives him up the wall when the reason’s unfounded, though he supposes Rogers’s reason for disliking him right now isn’t totally unjust.

_SR: Wow! I’ve won my own bike back! I am a lucky man!_

_SR: Also I live in QSH so if you could drop my bike back asap that’d be great._

“God,” Falsworth mutters, his chin poking into Bucky’s shoulder as he reads Bucky’s phone, “QSH scares the shit outta me.”

“Don’t be homophobic,” Bucky replies on auto-pilot. He’s terrified of QSH too though, and he’s a bisexual man who avoids the Queer Studies House like the plague. He’s afraid they’ll take one look at him and think he’s a phony, think he doesn’t belong there. He probably doesn’t; he’s a football playing idiot after all. The only non-straight guy on the football team.

“Ain’t homophobic if it’s true,” Falsworth says.

Bucky raises his eyebrows at him. “That’s what my gran who likes to tell me Imma burn in hell says.”

Falsworth gives him an apologetic smile, and Bucky laughs. He knows it’s all harmless.

“Suppose I ought to go face the music.” He sighs, climbing to his feet. He’ll shower and get dressed before he goes to see Rogers, because he thinks Rogers can survive another half another without his bike. Also, he stinks of booze, and it’s making him feel a bit queasy.

“Nice knowing you!” his housemates call, waving at him and not even bothering to hide the glee on their faces. Bucky needs some new friends.

The Queer Studies House is a beautiful white house with a grey slate roof that Bucky’s sure is a hell of a lot nicer on the inside than the dump he’s living in — not that he doesn’t love his place. It’s got its own charm. He stands at the bottom of the porch and stares up at the door, Rogers’s bike resting beside him. He’s trying to find the strength to go and knock on the door when it flies open to reveal one of the most attractive and put together chicks Bucky’s ever seen in his life.

He doesn’t need an introduction either. Peggy Carter’s nearly as notorious as Rogers — through her looks mean that people are more willing to let her outspoken nature slide.

“Oh,” she says, British accent crisp as the Fall air. “You’re the one who stole Steve’s bike?”

Bucky offers her what he hopes is his most charming smile. “ _Stole’s_ a bit aggressive, I am returning it after all.”

“Sorry,” Carter says, sounding extremely unapologetic but vaguely amused. “You’re the one who borrowed Steve’s bike without asking?”

Bucky pulls a face. “I suppose that’d be the one, yeah. Is he in?”

“Well, it’s not exactly like he can go very far.” Bucky thinks the things he’s heard about Peggy Carter don’t do her dry wit justice. He laughs and thinks he spots the corner of Carter’s mouth flicker into what could be a smile; however, before he can know for sure she’s turned around and is calling into the house. “Steve, darling, your bike thief has arrived.”

“Thieves don’t return things!” Bucky protests lamely.

He doesn’t have to worry about being alone for long as it’s only seconds later that Steve Rogers steamrolls out of the house already ranting. “I suppose you thought it’d be funny, did you?”

Bucky has no idea what Rogers is talking about, but he’s not going to lie and pretend that he doesn’t find the situation pretty humorous. Rogers doesn’t give him the chance to say this.

“Let me guess, this is another hilarious prank, steal lil ol’ Steve Rogers’s bicycle so that he can’t go anywhere because if he can’t go anywhere then we can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist!”

Bucky’s not often left speechless, in fact one of the things his mom complains about most is Bucky’s ability to have the last word, however, he’s gaping at Rogers like a gormless fish.

“Did you enjoy laughing at me?”

Bucky’s brain manages to click back into gear and he’s there shaking his head desperately. “I didn’t know it was your bike! Didn’t you read my post?”

“Yes,” Rogers snaps, “I can read.”

“Good for you?” Bucky says in panic before instantly regretting it. Rogers puffs up, spitting with rage. He’s got to be about five foot five, and Bucky could probably knock him over with a well-aimed punch but that doesn’t change the fact Bucky is currently debating running for his life. “I promise I didn’t know it was your bike! Why would I know what your bike looks like?”

Rogers crosses his arms and glowers at Bucky. “I don’t know what you football players get up to in your free time!”

“I assure you it isn’t bike theft!” Bucky’s voice reaches an octave he didn’t know existed as Rogers raises his eyebrows and stares at the bike in Bucky’s hands. “This is a one-off and a total accident, and I’m very sorry! I did not intentionally take your bike, though! I mean, like I did intentionally take the bike I think, but not ‘cause it was yours, more ‘cause I just wanted to get home.” Rogers is still staring at Bucky like he’s just confessed to killing babies. “I was very drunk, I really don’t remember. You know what it’s like!”

Jesus, Bucky hasn’t grovelled this much since he accidentally smashed one of his mom’s best china plates last Thanksgiving.

“I don’t drink,” Rogers says primly, but the death-inducing glare is gone.

“Oh,” is all Bucky can say in response. “Anyway, I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“You can not steal my bike again?” Bucky wonders if he’s going mad because he could swear he could see laughter in Rogers’s eyes.

“As I told your housemate, I borrowed it.” There’s definitely amusement in Rogers’s eyes. “Also does that mean I’m cool to borrow someone else's bike just not yours?”

“How about you stick to not stealing anyone’s bikes?”

Bucky lets out a dramatic sigh. “But Bucky the bike bandit sounds so cool!” Rogers stares at him like he’s grown another head. Bucky shoots him a grin. “Fine, I won’t steal anyone’s bike.”

“That was the least cool thing anyone has ever said.”

“It had alliteration!”

Rogers shakes his head and Bucky thinks that Rogers is kind of cute when he’s not making Bucky fear for his life. Rogers is close to him now, long fingers wrapping around the handlebar of the bike as he stares up at Bucky, huge blue eyes and long lashes under those thick black glasses. He’s got freckles too. Bucky’s always had a soft-spot for blonds — something he’s not going to tell Rogers because Bucky values not having his balls chopped off.

Rogers starts wheeling his bike back toward the house, before pausing and looking over his shoulder. “What kind of a name is Bucky anyway?” he asks.

Bucky laughs. “If I had a buck for—”

“—please don’t finish that pun.” Bucky holds his hands up in defeat. Rogers gives him a genuine smile and Bucky thinks no one would have a bad word to say about Rogers if they got to see that smile. It’s sunshine itself. “I thought football players were supposed to be cool?”

“Really?”

“No,” Rogers amends, “but I thought you all thought you were cool anyway.”

“I am cool.”

Rogers’s smile grows more and Bucky grins back at him. “Sure thing, Bucky the bike bandit.”

Bucky laughs. “Anyway, yeah, sorry for the bike thing again. Hope we’re cool, Rogers.” He doesn’t fancy the wrath of Steve Rogers raining down on him when he’s not expecting it.

“Steve.”

“Huh?”

“My name,” Rogers says. “You see outside the locker room we call each other our first names. And my name’s Steve.” Rogers smirks.

Steve Rogers is notorious on campus for being a shit, but no one had ever told Bucky he was a _little_ shit as well. “Fine,” Bucky says, “hope we’re cool, _Steve_!”

Steve shrugs, still smiling himself. “Yeah, we’re cool, I guess.”

“Cool,” Bucky says. He’s definitely said the word _cool_ far too frequently. He usually has way more game than this — not that he’s flirting with Steve. Is he? Is Steve flirting with him?

“Steve!” Carter’s back in the doorway staring down at them both with blatant amusement on her face. “Sorry to kill the moment, but Sam needs your help on baking duty.”

“Where’s Riley?” Steve asks. Bucky thinks it’s possible that he’s just being hopeful when he sees a flash of irritation on Steve’s face at them being interrupted.

“I’ve been banned from the kitchen!” A cheerful voice drifts down from the house. “Sam says I’m a menace.”

Steve sighs. “We’re having a bake sale round campus, trying to raise some money for Queer Charities.” He levels Bucky a look like he’s daring him to mock them for it. Bucky wouldn’t mock them for a multitude of reasons, starting with he’s not a homophobic idiot and ending with he’s queer himself.

“That’s awesome,” he says.

Steve’s face lights up with that sunshine smile again. Carter clears her throat. “I’ll see you ‘round, Bucky,” Steve says, pushing his bike up the stairs to the house. Bucky nearly volunteers to help, but he thinks that’d be insulting.

“See you ‘round, Steve.” He catches Carter giving him a knowing look and flashes her a final smile before sauntering off. He wonders how obsessive it’d be to track down every cake stall across campus until he finds the one Steve’ll be manning. He imagines pretty obsessive. He’s still probably going to do it.

* * *

 

Luckily for Bucky he’s not forced to resort to stalking when the next day his phone alerts him that Steve Rogers has posted on _Overheard at Middlebury_ asking for volunteers to man the stalls of the Queer Bake Sale.

“Mori?” Bucky says. Morita’s slouched on the sofa across from him engrossed in a nature documentary.

“Yeah?” He replies through a mouthful of Cheetos.

“One, pass me the bag before you eat them all, and two, how’s the club doing on its charity requirement?”

Morita grips the Cheetos closer but pauses his chewing in thought. As the charity executive of the football club, Morita’s the one who ensures they’re giving back to the community and college and generally promoting a good image. There’s a lot of overlap with the publicity executive involved. “I mean, there’s always more we could do, but that’s life, right?”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “I wasn’t asking for a philosophy lesson, I was asking what you thought of the football team helping out with the Queer bake sale.”

Morita shrugs. “You wanna?”

“It’d be good promo,” Bucky says, trying to sound nonchalant. He not only wants to see Steve again, he wants to prove to him that the football team isn’t full of assholes. Also Morita knows that things like this means a lot to Bucky. He doesn’t bring his sexuality into football much but it’s always there. “Rogers asked for volunteers, and I could suggest us?”

“He’ll probably reject our help.”

Bucky is aware that’s a possibility, but he thinks it can’t hurt to try. He’d volunteer by himself, but he’d feel more comfortable with his friends around him. And he doesn’t think Steve will reject help. Bucky thinks he’d established a decent enough first meeting relationship with Steve yesterday so Steve would know he wasn’t offering as a joke. “How about just our house do it then? Less _the_ football team and more a few members of the team?”

“Sure,” Morita says, “it’s up to you, Barnesy. Give me the word and I’ll post on the team page so everyone available shows up, or we can keep it in-house.” Bucky stares at his phone screen and tries to find the courage to message Steve. “You and Rogers make nice then?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “he was pretty decent yesterday once he realized I hadn’t stolen his bike as a personal thing.” He remembers what Steve’d said yesterday, his automatic assumption Bucky’d stolen his bike deliberately. “Does he get a lot of shit then?” Morita grunts in confusion. “Ya know, like does Rogers get a lot of crap from people? Sports teams?”

“Rumlow’s lot give him a lot of crap, but they’re hockey who all hate him on principal.”

“Rumlow’s an ass,” Bucky says, and Morita makes a noise of agreement. Bucky doesn’t think anyone deserves to get given shit, but he’d liked Steve’s fiery spirit yesterday and feels protective of him. Not that he imagined someone like Steve Rogers really needed protecting.

He opens up his messenger contact with Steve and types out a message:

_BB: Hey Steve! Saw you wanted some help for the bake sale tomorrow and was interested in offering my services!! I can also supply help depending on how much you need_

_BB: Consider it my ‘sorry I stole your bike’ present :)_

Bucky pretends like he doesn’t stare at his phone waiting for Steve’s reply and opens the message as soon as it appears.

_SR: Heya Buck! The more the merrier really! We’ve cooked up enough for a small army so gonna need more stands than we’d originally planned. What you offering?_

_BB: The football team if you want them, my housemates if you don’t_

There’s a longer gap before Steve’s next message this time. Bucky tries to watch Morita’s documentary and chews on the edge of his thumb.

_SR: The football team want to help out at a Queer Bake sale?_

_BB: Yeah!_

The three dots signifying Steve’s typing pop up before vanishing again.

_SR: I will report it as a hate crime if this is just y’all trying to make fun of us._

Bucky’s typing as quickly as he can before Steve can threaten him again:

_BB: No!!!_

_BB: I promise that’s not it!!!_

_BB: I’m bi!! Like I’m queer too dude!! they know this!!_

_BB: Out and proud and getting no shit for it!!! They wouldn’t say anything to you guys!!_

Steve’s three dots dance in front of his face again:

_SR: Oh… sorry, I just presumed…_

_BB: If there’s anyone on the team that has ever given you shit for that let me know and I’ll report them!!_

_BB: Or make them run laps_

_BB: Vice Captain Perks ;)_

Bucky drags a hand through his hair and continues staring at his phone.

_SR: No names spring to mind, but thank you_

_BB: So do you want the whole team or?_

_SR: If the team helped out and promoed the sale that would be incredible_

_SR: Shockingly you guys have a bigger reach than ours_

_BB: It’s only cause of the shirtless selfies we post to keep our followers happy ;)_

Bucky’s definitely flirting now.

_SR: Wouldn’t know, haven’t seen them_

_BB: Don’t you follow the football account?!?_

_SR: Nope_

_BB: You should!! I run it!!_

_SR: So if I follow it I get to see your shirtless selfies?_

_BB: You’ll have to follow and find out_

They’re both flirting now. Bucky’s sure of it.

Steve gives him a time to meet outside the QSH so they can help with the transporting and setting up as in Steve’s words “those football muscles have to be useful for something.” Steve’d pointedly ignored Bucky’s inquiry as to whether or not Steve had been checking out his muscles, which Bucky had taken to mean “yes.”

“Make a staggered schedule on the page for people to sign up from eleven till four, and say that everyone has to take one shift or message me a legit reason why they can’t,” Bucky tells Morita who’s still stuffing his face with Cheetos.

“Yes, Sarge!”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Pretty sure we ain’t on the field right now unless I’ve gone mad.”

“Then why you bossing me around?”

Bucky grins. “You making the schedule?”

Morita mimics him but slides off the sofa with a grunt and traipses off to find his laptop. Bucky reaches for the remote to turn off Morita’s documentary and sticks _The Good Place_ back on.

“And tell them all to promo it on their social media too!” he yells at Morita’s back. He doesn’t quite catch his reply, but he’s guessing it’s insulting. Bucky laughs in response.

* * *

Bucky’s already got a grin on his face when the door of QSH swings open to a handsome black man with a bemused smile. Bucky clearly missed a trick by not signing up for Queer Studies if everyone who lived here is this good looking.

“You Steve’s Bucky?”

“Steve’s Bucky?” Morita snickers.

Bucky elbows him. “The one and only.” He likes the idea of being Steve’s Bucky, makes it sound like Steve’s been talking about him to his friends — even if it’s only to tell them that Bucky got them PR and helpers. “I have your volunteers!” He gestures down to the bottom of the porch where Thor and Dum Dum are being the epitome of cliche and tossing a football back and forth between them. They’re all in their jerseys too, but that’s because they draw people's attention, and Bucky figures every little helps.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” the man mutters before sticking his hand out for Bucky to shake. “Name’s Sam Wilson.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky replies. He calls Thor forward to meet Sam as well, seeing as Thor is the team captain, and soon they’re being shuffled inside to pick up tables and bundles of baked goods.

Steve’s lecturing a tall blond about being extremely careful with the posters because he’d given up two days of his life to make them, and does he know how difficult it is to make everything rainbow themed when you’re colorblind to red and green?

“So, should I risk coming near the posters, or is it just safest if I stay away?” Bucky asks, grinning as Steve spins round to face him.

“Depends how clumsy you are.” Steve gives what Bucky thinks is supposed to be a serious look, but Bucky can see the smile playing at his mouth. “These posters are my pride and joy right now.”

“I’ve got pretty safe hands,” Bucky says, wiggling his fingers at Steve.

“Is that what you tell all the girls?”

“And boys,” Bucky says, “I’m all about equal opportunity.”

“Those who are non-binary too?”

“Anyone is welcome to experience my safe hands,” Bucky says.

Steve groans. “Please stop speaking!”

“You encouraged it!”

Steve points him toward a stack of posters. “Go be useful.”

Bucky salutes him and picks up a pile of posters, yelling at the rest of the team to be useful too. There’s various shouts of “Sure thing, Sarge,” in reply but they get the job done.

Bucky’s just finished telling Clint that no, he can’t buy an entire box of cupcakes before they leave QSH, when he turns to see Steve juggling a bundle of posters and a box of cookies. Steve catches his eyes and gives him a smile, a small one, but it lights Bucky on fire anyway. Steve turns and walks out the door, and Bucky’s helpless to anything but stare after him.

“He’s not so scary in person,” Clint says in Bucky’s ear.

“Just wait till you piss him off,” another voice makes them both jump. The stunning redhead that Sam had introduced as Natasha walks past holding her own tray of baked goods. “He’d eat you both for breakfast.”

“Barnes definitely wants Rogers to eat him for breakfast,” Clint replies. Bucky kicks him.

“Sorry about him. We don’t usually let him out in public.” Clint snickers, and Bucky kicks him again, smiling at Natasha when Clint yelps.

Natasha’s smirk is terrifying. “Well, if you ask him nicely I’m sure Steve would be more than happy to—”

“—I think someone’s calling my name!” Bucky cuts Natasha off and dashes for the door, leaving Clint and Natasha laughing at his retreating back.

Steve’s outside on the porch giving everyone a final rundown of their target and schedule.  Bucky pauses beside him, waiting for him to finish. Steve’s split it so most of the stalls will involve one football player and one member of the Queer Society. Bucky tries not to grin too widely when Steve says that they’ll be on a stall together.

“Everyone got all that?” Steve asks, voice carrying easily despite his size. None of the team look ready to give him shit, which Bucky’s thankful for. He hopes it’s not just his threats keeping them at bay, and that they’ve actually realized that Steve’s an alright guy.

“Yes, Captain!” Dum Dum shouts back. There’s a chorus of “Yes, Captain!” as the football team echoes him.

Steve frowns, glancing over his shoulder at Bucky. There’s a tension in the thin press of his lips that tells Bucky exactly how wary Steve is of them all still.

“It’s a nickname,” Bucky says gently, nudging Steve. Steve turns his narrowed gaze on Bucky. “Watch this,” Bucky says, before yelling, “Shut the fuck up, Dum Dum! And the rest of you shitheads too!”

Dum Dum’s laugh is loud. “Yes, Sarge!” The rest of the team echoes him again.

“See, nicknames,” Bucky says, “we usually keep ‘em on the pitch, but whenever they feel I’m being exceptionally bossy they call me Sarge. Short for Sergeant,” Bucky adds unnecessarily.

“They think I’m bossy?”

“No!” Bucky says quickly. “They’re showing respect in their own stupid-ass way.” Steve still looks suspicious. “We just like nicknames.”

“I can tell.”

“To be fair, like over half my house is called James, so we kinda need them.” Steve raises his eyebrows, so Bucky points to himself. “James Buchanan Barnes, most commonly known as Bucky but will answer to a multitude of other things.”

“What’s wrong with just Jamie?”

Bucky pulls a face. “Boring as shit is what’s wrong with it.”

Steve laughs. His nose is slightly wonky like he’s been punched in the face one too many times, but it crinkles when he laughs, and Bucky thinks it’s brilliant.

“So, whatcha say Steve, you wanna be the Captain to my Sargent?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You football players are weird.”

“Weird in a good way?”

Bucky watches Steve’s eyes track from Bucky to the rest of the football team who’ve all given up their day to come and help out with this bake sale. “I’m not answering that.”

Bucky grins because he’s pretty sure that’s Steve for _yes_.

* * *

“What’ve you tagged me in?” Bucky yells as a notification pops up on his phone. He’s just come out of the shower and is standing by his locker, towel around his waist, watching as one by one his teammates’ names flash up on his phone alerting him that he’s been tagged in an Overheard post.

Dum Dum gives Bucky a shit-eating grin in response.

The post is from Steve’s friend Peggy asking for an someone to model for some life drawing work this weekend. The post asks for someone who would be comfortable sitting in the nude and offers money and/or pizza in exchange. And Bucky’s been tagged in it over twenty times.

He’s a bit disappointed it’s not Steve asking, if he’s honest. Bucky’d be a lot more up for posing nude for Steve.

Not that he doesn’t like Peggy, she seems like a great girl… she’s just not Steve. Steve who Bucky’d spent the whole of Monday getting to know as they had competed to see who could charm more people into buying cakes. Bucky’d won by a landslide, but he’d put that just on people being interested in the football jersey. Steve’d laughed at him, saying that if Bucky hadn’t been there then everyone would have been running in the other direction. Bucky doesn’t understand why: sure he’d presumed the worst about Steve too, but all he’d had to do was speak to the guy once to realize that he’s great.

Steve’d confessed to Bucky that most of his bias against the football team had come from high school and his troubles with Rumlow’s lot at college. It’d meant a lot to Bucky to know that Steve felt safer around the football team. The team are his brothers, and Bucky wants to get to know Steve better. A lot better.

Steve’s smart as hell with a killer sense of humor. He’s got a moral compass that Bucky thinks they should all aspire to, they're both Brooklyn boys, and he’s cute. Bucky almost goes weak at the knees when Steve does this thing where he smiles at the floor, grin wonky and lashes brushing his cheeks. Steve may be an artist, but he’s a work of art too.

Bucky stops dreaming about Steve to glare at his still snickering friends.

“You know I’m not trying to fuck Carter, right?” he sighs.

“So you admit you’re trying to fuck Rogers?” Dum Dum counters.

“That is not a logical jump!”

“Sure it is,” Morita pipes up. “We all know you want to fuck Rogers.”

“We approve, don’t worry,” Gabe says. “Think he’d protect your honor.”

“What honor?”

“Will you all shut up?”

“You could at least ask nicely.”

“Will you all shut up, please?”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?” Bucky doesn’t look at Dum Dum as he replies with some choice words about exactly where Dum Dum can stick it. He’s too busy trying to think up a nice way to tell Peggy that no, he’s not actually interested in modeling for her. Those intentions fly out of the window as soon as he receives a message from Peggy saying that it’s actually Steve who needs a model if Bucky’s genuinely interested in helping out.

“He’s smiling! Why’s he smiling?” Morita demands.

 _Have Steve message me,_ he tells Peggy before shooting his friends the biggest grin he can and laughing as they lose their shit.

* * *

The door to the art studio is already open when Bucky arrives. He leans against the doorframe taking it in. It’s pretty empty, just a well-lit room with a sofa in the middle and Steve perched in front of it with a large sketch pad. He’s dressed in a paint-splattered top, and there’s a discarded leather jacket in the corner. With a streak of paint in his hair, Steve looks every inch the art student he is, and Bucky’s charmed by the sight.

“Bringing punk back?” Bucky asks to announce his presence, seeing as Steve’s caught up in his own world. Steve spins round, dropping a pencil and blushing.

“What?”

Bucky gestures to his hair, and Steve runs a hand through his own, fingers snagging at the dried blue paint. “I mean, if someone was gonna do it, it’d be you,” Bucky continues, smirking as Steve makes a face.

“Shut up, jerk.”

“ _Jerk_ , what are you? Twelve?” Bucky laughs.

“I will throw this at you,” Steve threatens, holding his pencil up.

“Wow, what a threat!” Bucky pretends to look terrified. “Not a pencil! Please don’t throw a pencil at me!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’ll draw you with a really small dick.”

“Okay, I’ll be good,” Bucky says, dropping the act and giving Steve his most angelic smile. He doesn’t want Steve drawing him with a tiny penis; he doesn’t have a tiny penis, but that’s besides the point. No one wants their crush drawing them with a small dick.

They both stand there, fidgeting awkwardly, because Steve may have shut Bucky up, but he’s also drawn attention to the reason why Bucky’s there. Steve’s going to draw Bucky’s dick, or at least his naked body, which means he’s going to see Bucky’s dick.

“I normally ask someone to buy me dinner before I get my dick out for them,” Bucky says before instantly regretting it.

Luckily, Steve laughs. “Well, I did promise you pizza.”

“You did.” Bucky nods. “And I should warn you that I’m always hungry after naked activities.” He winks at Steve.

“You gonna keep making jokes the whole time?”

Bucky laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’ll take it seriously. How’d you want me?” He cringes when he realizes how that sounds. Steve’s staring at the floor, the top of his cheeks bright red. “I meant where?”

“Couch,” Steve says, “and you can like, not be naked if you’d rather.”

“Scared of my dick, Rogers?” Steve glares at him. “How would you do this if it wasn’t me but a professional?”

“You’d be naked,” Steve mumbles, brushing his bangs across his forehead.

Bucky shoots him a smile that he hopes hides his pounding heart. “Then naked I shall be. I’m a professional, okay?”

“Professional idiot more like.” They laugh.

Bucky tugs off his hoodie and drops it onto the floor before toeing off his shoes. “Not like I haven’t got my dick out for the public before.”

“Do I want to ask?”

Bucky’s fingers rest on his belt buckle before deciding his tee can go next. “Football initiations in first year,” he says as he pulls his shirt off. “Had to run across the field butt-naked.” He undoes his belt and the button of his jeans. “And a naked calendar last year, I mean my dick was hidden behind a football, but it was still out so…” He takes a deep breath and starts to pull his jeans down as if it doesn’t matter to him what Steve thinks. Steve hasn’t said anything in response to Bucky’s stupid rambling about his dick.

He glances up as he kicks his jeans off, leaving him standing there in his boxers. Steve’s still not said anything, but that’s because he’s standing there staring at Bucky with his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

“The calendar was for a good cause,” Bucky adds. Steve nods dumbly in response, and Bucky tries not to preen too much at the fact Steve’s brain seems to have momentarily melted. Bucky’s near enough to dying because Steve’s still fully clothed and his eyes are moving over Bucky hungrily. Steve looks like he’d like to eat Bucky alive, and Bucky thinks he’d let him. He can’t think of much he wouldn’t let Steve do if it meant he’d kept looking at him like that.

Bucky sticks his thumbs in the band of his boxers. He thinks someone could cut the sexual tension with a knife, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to survive this.

Steve bites down on his lip and turns away, fidgeting aimlessly with his sketch pad to give Bucky some privacy. Bucky’s grateful; his dick is starting to show interest as it is, and Steve watching as he’d pulled down his boxers would have been too much.

“If you just kind of sprawl—” Steve gestures vaguely, still not looking at Bucky “—out on the couch that’d be good. The project word is ‘sensual’ so if you could try for that it’d be great. I imagine you’ve got the whole sensual thing down though, I mean you’re you.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. Bucky’s glad that he’s not the only rambling idiot here.

He inspects the red velvet couch. It’s like a walking cliche, but hopefully it’ll turn out okay. He trusts Steve enough.

“I’m kinda just aiming for one drawing, and if it goes well then I’ll transfer it to a canvas," Steve continues to fill the silence. "I’ve already drawn a couple of other people for it as well. I’m doing a series of portraits, you see."

“Aww Stevie, and here I was thinking I was special.” Bucky pouts, arranging himself on the couch, an arm behind his head and one leg up. He feels a bit like an idiot; that is, until Steve looks at him and promptly knocks his pencil case onto the floor. Bucky doesn't feel so stupid with Steve looking at him like that.

“I dunno, Buck,” Steve murmurs, voice carrying in the airy studio. “You look pretty special right now.”

Bucky swallows and wills his body not to give away how affected he is. “I bet you say that to all your models.” Bucky’s voice comes out deeper than he means it to, and his throat goes dry when Steve shakes his head and says:

“No, just you.”

They don’t speak much as Steve starts drawing. He makes sure Bucky is comfortable and has him stretch out one leg, turn to face him in a certain way, and then he’s off. Bucky’s happy to lie there and watch him. He can see the top half of Steve’s face. The wrinkle between his brows and the blond hair that falls over his forehead. He watches Steve’s eyes flick between Bucky and the paper, and he feels like he’s burning under Steve’s gaze. He wonders if Steve looks at all his models like this. He hopes not.

Bucky’s normally useless at staying still, but he feels pinned to the sofa. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when Steve gives him the go-ahead to get up and stretch. Steve chucks Bucky a blanket to wrap around himself and Bucky’s grateful, because the second Steve’s not drawing, he can’t forget he’s naked while Steve is fully clothed.

Bucky holds the blanket around his waist and stands up, stretching out his shoulders and hips.

Steve’s tapping away at his phone. “Figure I’ll order the pizza now so it should arrive by the time I’m done?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky says. “How close are you to finishing?”

Steve shrugs. “As I said I want to transfer it to canvas, so I don’t need all the detail as if this was just staying as a drawing, so I’ve done all the lines and the couch and a bit of shading. A few details left.”

“Cool,” Bucky says, pottering over to inspect Steve’s sketch pad.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s not finished!”

“And?”

Steve chews on his bottom lips, arms folded. “What if you hate it?”

“Steve, as long as you haven’t actually given me a small dick I won’t hate it.”

“What if I’m drawing to scale?” Steve says. Bucky rolls his eyes and takes that as permission to actually look at the drawing properly. Steve stands there casting nervous glances between Bucky and his phone as Bucky walks behind him to see the sketch pad properly and—

“If you hate it just force a smile and nod,” Steve says, his voice too high. “I mean like, pretend to like it and spare my feelings, ‘cause you probably don’t like it and—”

“—Steve,” Bucky cuts him off, and Steve turns to face him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Oh God,” Steve groans, “you hate it.”

Bucky swallows. “No,” he says, “I don’t hate it at all.”

“Oh,” is the only sound Steve makes, a proud smile curving at his lips.

Bucky thinks it’s that smile that’s his undoing, the quirk of Steve’s  mouth that reveals a dimple in his left cheek. It’s a glimmer of his sunshine smile that makes Bucky’s knees weak every time he sees it, and put together with the drawing Steve’s just done… Bucky reaches out, sliding a hand along Steve’s jaw and leans in, but it’s Steve that closes that final distance between them. It’s not too much, just a gentle touch of lips, the briefest thing, but Bucky feels like every nerve in his body explodes at once.

They pull back, Bucky’s hand still on Steve’s face. Steve’s eyes are shut, his lashes against his cheek, and Bucky presses one more kiss to his lips, unable to help himself. He can feel Steve smiling into the kiss, and if he thought that sunshine smile had been good to look at, the feeling of it against his own lips is out of this world.

They part eventually, Steve’s hand resting on Bucky’s arm, and smile at each other dopily.

“So,” Bucky says, grinning as Steve laughs. “I really, really don’t want to stop, but if we don’t…” He lets go of Steve’s face to gesture to where his semi is hidden behind the blanket. “It’s going to make you drawing me a hell of a lot more awkward.”

“No complaints here.” Steve smirks. Bucky kisses the smirk off Steve’s face, which leaves him even harder but content as he watches Steve try to catch his breath.

“Should I be proud that I’m so good at kissing you’re on the verge of an asthma attack?” Bucky teases.

“I don’t really think you’ve got a leg to stand on here,” Steve says, eyeing the bulge of Bucky’s blanket.

Bucky loosens his grip on the blanket to try and make it less noticeable, but all that does is leave Steve’s eyes greedily chasing the skin Bucky exposes. “Order the pizza, Stevie, I want this drawing finished.”

“You can’t rush art!” Steve says, but he’s already tapping away at his phone to order for them both.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “but the sooner you finish the sooner we can get onto the fun stuff.”

“Wha—” Steve starts, but then Bucky drops the blanket, laughing at the expression on Steve’s face. “On second thought, rushing is always better.”

“Not always,” Bucky says, lounging on the couch as he waits for Steve to start drawing him again. The hungry look on Steve’s face has Bucky thinking that in this case the wait will be more than worth it.

* * *

“Okay, I’m calling artistic bias,” Dum Dum says loudly, either ignoring or not caring about the dirty looks he receives from people around them.

“Is that a thing?” Morita asks.

“Dunno, but how else are we explaining the fact that Rogers has definitely made Barnes’s dick look bigger than it actually is.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You spend way too much time thinking about my dick, dude.”

“I mean, it’s quite hard to avoid right now,” Dum Dum says, gesturing dramatically at the painting of Bucky in front of them, Bucky’s crotch in particular. Bucky grins. He thought he’d mind having a nude picture of himself hanging for everyone to see, but Steve’s managed to make it look so tasteful and beautiful that Bucky’s just honored Steve chose him for it. “And I know it ain’t that big!”

“Do you not like my art?” They stop squabbling at the sound of Steve’s voice, and Bucky drops an arm around Steve’s shoulder, pulling him close. He wants everyone to know that he’s the lucky guy who gets to date someone like Steve. Bucky’s not sure he’ll ever get over how talented Steve is.

“It’s awesome,” Gabe says ‘cause Bucky can always count on him not to be an ass.

“Shame about Barnes’s ugly mug, but you captured it perfectly!” Morita gives Steve a thumbs up that makes Steve smile. He knows that Bucky’s friends mean well.

They all turn to Dum Dum who’s still staring at Bucky’s painted crotch. “Look, it’s great, don’t get me wrong, but you didn’t have to lie about the dick size. We all know about Barnes’s micro-penis.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that you’re claiming to know Barnes’s dick better than his boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, agreeing with Morita, “it’s weird.”

“Well, I probably saw it first!”

“Never gonna get over how gay you football players are,” Steve says.

Bucky presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “Don’t get jealous now.”

Dum Dum, Morita, and Gabe all share a look. “We’re gonna go join the others staring at the naked chicks,” Dum Dum announces. “Appreciate the tits and everything.”

“Go be the straight, red-blooded males you are at heart!” Bucky calls after them as they wander the rest of Steve’s exhibit. Steve shushes Bucky, but he’s grinning too, and doesn’t protest when Bucky uses his thumb to raise his chin and press a kiss to his lips. He looks back at the painting, his expressions lustful but there’s something tender there too.

“Do you think it adds to the artistic integrity of the seduction if people know we fucked after you finished drawing?” he murmurs in Steve’s ear.

“Bucky!” Steve hisses, hitting Bucky’s arm. He’s still smiling, so Bucky doesn’t feel too bad, and he gets another kiss out of it.

“Come on, it was fun!”

“I never said it wasn’t.” Steve takes his hand and leads him around the rest of the students’ art which, while all are very good, in Bucky’s own mildly biased opinion, doesn’t hold a candle to Steve’s.

He pauses in front of a series of photographs of bicycles. “Who’d have thought, huh?”

“What?” Steve asks, staring at the photos before laughing. “What, that petty thievery pays off?”

“Borrowing,” Bucky tries to argue, “I returned it!”

Steve hums in mock agreement. “Stolen any more bikes recently?”

“Nah, this guy I’m seeing has one I can borrow any time I need.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, squeezing Steve’s hand as they stand there staring at the art in front of them. “He’s pretty great like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are the best things since sliced bread
> 
> I'm on tumblr [@gracie137blogs](http://gracie137blogs.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you enjoyed and want to share the tumblr post [click here](http://gracie137blogs.tumblr.com/post/179927718765/found-one-bicycle)


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